Fifty Shades of Fabray
by kabensi
Summary: An anthology series of fifty Faberry one-shots. Each chapter is a standalone piece.
1. One

"I hope you still want to order thai, because I'm absolutely starving and it's all I could think about the entire train ride, so if you forgot about it and already ate, I swear that I'll-"

"Rachel!"

"I-"

"Get out!"

"I did see-"

"OUT!"

But Rachel doesn't leave. First of all, the door was unlocked, the way it always is on the last Friday of the month, when Rachel comes up to New Haven (the second Fridays are when Quinn takes the trip down to New York). Secondly, Rachel's terribly curious about what's going on, because she can still see what's on Quinn's laptop. Or, she can until Quinn slams it shut.

Even closed, though, Rachel has the image burned into her mind. It's easy to remember what she's seen because the two women on the screen very closely resemble the two women who currently occupy Quinn's dorm room.

Quinn looks like she wants to get up and physically remove Rachel from her personal space, but she can't. She can't because, even though there's a sheet covering her legs, it's apparently that she isn't wearing any pants.

"Did you... forget I was coming?" Rachel pauses. "Perhaps that isn't the correct turn of phrase. Did you forget it was the end of the month?"

Quinn's hands are over her face. "No," is the muffled reply. "I didn't forget. I just lost track of time."

"Oh." Rachel nods.

"Can you... just please..."

"Is this something you do every time I come into town?"

"Rachel," Quinn pleads, peeking out from between her fingers. "I don't want to talk about it."

"It's perfectly natural, Quinn." Rachel leans back against the door.

"It's embarrassing."

"Would you be as embarrassed if I told you I've done the same thing?"

"Hearing about you looking at porn isn't really making me feel better." Though, Quinn's tone doesn't sound quite as panicked, anymore.

Rachel's fingers twist the lock into place before she pushes herself forward and takes a few steps toward Quinn's bed. She's always been grateful that Quinn has a single, but before now, that was because they could be up late watching movies without bothering anyone else.

This is different. Very different.

"Not even if I tell you I've looked at it and thought about you?"

Quinn's hands fall from her face and she just stares at Rachel. "You're just trying to make me feel better."

"Honestly, Quinn, I can think of much better ways to do that than telling dirty white lies."

"You can?"

Rachel nods and, by now, she's crossed the room and she's standing at the foot of Quinn's bed. A purple plaid duffel bag hits the floor and the sound makes Quinn jump, but her eyes never leave Rachel's.

There's a very clear juxtaposition between the delicate way Rachel picks up the MacBook and sets it on the nightstand and the fact that she practically rips off her own cardigan and flings it behind her shoulder. Quinn's eyes are wide and her mouth looks like she wants to form words, but there isn't any conversation.

The last couple weeks of scene study method have been about being in the moment, and dammit, Rachel's deep in this one.

"Quinn," she says, sitting in the spot where she originally saw two women engaged in what looked to be a very rousing session of oral sex. "I want to be very clear about this. I think about you. Doing things with me. Things like what you were watching."

"You don't have to-"

"I want to."

"Y-you want to? Right now?"

Rachel laughs. "I'm not suggesting we jump right into cunnilingus-"

Quinn's apparently regained at least enough of her bearings to roll her eyes. "Seriously-" She's stopped short my Rachel's finger pressed firmly against her lips.

"I've been single for the better part of a year and you... you're watching adult videos on the internet."

"That doesn't mean we have to-"

"What if we both want to?"

"So, you... want to?"

Rachel isn't even sure how or when she ended up on top of Quinn, straddling her legs. The sheet is still between them, but given that Quinn isn't wearing anything below the belt other than what look to be green and white panties and Rachel has on a knee length skirt, there really isn't that much of a barrier, at all.

The way Quinn's eyes roll back, just a little, attests to that.

They've been hanging out since they both left Lima, twice a month. Dinner and movies and gossip. Making out never really came up, though. Given the way Quinn's kissing back, though, it doesn't seem to be a foreign concept, especially when her tongue drags over Rachel's bottom lip and one of them groans, though Rachel can't really tell who it came from.

And then there are hands. Hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. Rachel's own hands are tugging at Quinn's YALE t-shirt, then grabbing her shoulders, because she's trying to pace herself and going straight for second seems a little fast, even for this unexpected scenario. Though, the way Quinn's hips roll up off the bed make second seem like tangible territory, but now Rachel can't even focus on the order of the bases, because she's rocking down against Quinn, who's just kissing her harder and making these incredible sounds into her mouth that make Rachel nearly lose whatever control she has left.

But then Quinn's pulling away and saying something and it takes a moment for Rachel to even process what's being said to her.

"What?"

Quinn's still a little breathless when she repeats herself. "I said I thought you were absolutely starving. Do you want to order food first? We... can pick this up... after. If you want to." Her eyes aren't focusing on Rachel's and it's clear she's worried that maybe this isn't going to carry past the current moment.

"You stopped making out to see if I want to have dinner?"

"I just want to make sure you're okay."

The concern on Quinn's face is genuine and Rachel can't stop herself from kissing her, again. "I suppose you buying me dinner first is probably appropriate protocol before an intense make-out session."

"My buying you dinner? Is that how this is going to go?"

"You were the one looking at porn."

The smack from the pillow is almost enough to knock Rachel off the bed, but Quinn's other arm is still wrapped around her and keeps her securely in place. "Take it back."

"No. I actually want to see it."

"I'm not showing it to you."

"I'm not above locking myself in the bathroom with your computer."

"I thought you were hungry."

"Sacrifices can be made."

"I need the computer to order from Thai Garden."

Rachel sighs. "Fine. But you're showing me later. Either with the video or without."

"We haven't even had a date, yet! I thought you were a big romantic."

"Life in New York is quickly turning me into a realist."

"A horny realist."

"Watch your mouth."

"I'd rather put it to good use." Quinn's eyebrow raises at the look on Rachel's face. "Eating dinner, perv."

"You're the one who left the door unlocked while you were..."

"And you were right on time." There's a smirk that suggests that maybe, just maybe, Quinn isn't kidding, but Rachel won't know if it was an accident or a slight manipulation until she finally drags it out of Quinn sometime during their twenty-third date and even then, she still can't believe that Quinn Fabray would stoop to such a risky level of seduction.

Whatever the case, it was definitely worth it.


	2. Two

"Will you hurry up and roll that thing before I die of old age?"

Quinn shoots a glare at Mack. "You're the one who can't figure out who to get it tight enough."

There's a smirk in reply and then, "Yeah, from what I heard you have no problem with it being tight enough."

"Eavesdropping, again?"

"It's not eavesdropping if we can clearly hear it through the bathroom window," says Ronnie, who apparently can't be bothered to look up from her phone. Quinn assumes she's texting Sheila, who's apparently home sick, though they're all pretty sure she's at Cedar Point with some guy she met on Craigslist.

"Your girl has a hell of a voice on her."

Quinn doesn't say anything, but there's a smug look on her face as she twists the end of the joint and holds it out to Mack. Everyone else is in class, so there's no risk of anyone actually seeing them out here under the bleachers. "Don't tell her that, because she'll take it as a compliment."

"Take what as a compliment?" Rachel's suddenly behind Quinn, blue streaked hair contrasting with Quinn's shade of pink as she wraps her arms around Quinn's shoulders from behind the worn out plaid sofa that serves as the Skank Headquarters. If they were organized enough to need a headquarters.

"Your lung capacity." Quinn reaches behind her and pulls Rachel down into her lap, before kissing her girlfriend so intensely that a black Doc Marten with gold stars painted on it presses so hard against the arm of the couch that it cracks. "You just broke my favorite sofa," Quinn says, panting against Rachel's lips.

"It's fine."

"Make it up to me."

Rachel grabs a handful of Quinn's sleeveless t-shirt and pulls her back in, but when their lips are just close enough to brush against each other, she says, "I want to be alone with you."

Quinn doesn't even think twice about it. "Here or...?"

"Storage shed." Rachel's already up on her feet and dragging Quinn behind her.

"Don't smoke all of that," Quinn calls out, over her shoulder. Mack's already lighting up and even if she does burn through the whole joint, Quinn has a feeling it really won't matter by the time Rachel has her way.

The entire walk over to the storage area, Quinn can't take her eyes off Rachel's ass. There was a point in time when she claimed the plaid skirts were absolutely terrible, but that was just to give her reason to look at them. Now that Rachel abandoned the animal sweaters for dark tank tops and the kind of sexy thigh highs that made Quinn's mouth water, she felt absolutely no shame in looking wherever she wanted.

She figures Rachel's really turned on, right now, because even with her Skank status, Rachel doesn't really ditch class that often. She still has her sights set on New York and she needs the grades to get there, she's just stopped trying to be everything to everyone.

"I only have fifteen minutes," Rachel says, latching the shed door behind them.

"Can you at least be quiet, this time?"

Rachel shakes her head and slips her hand in the waistband of Quinn's denim skirt, yanking her forward. "Fifteen. Minutes."

Quinn's hands are quick to grab Rachel's waist. She lifts her up and Rachel's legs wrap around Quinn's hips. There's a clatter as Rachel grabs the vertical pole of a metal storage rack, but Quinn doesn't even bother to see what's been knocked over. Once Rachel's braced against the wall, Quinn's hand disappears under the plaid and her fingers dance up the smooth skin of Rachel's thigh. When she reaches the lacy fabric between Rachel's legs, Quinn immediately understands why Rachel isn't in class.

"You're soaked, babe."

"I know. Which is why the fifteen minutes is imperative to remember. Or, f-fourteen, now." The act of Quinn's fingers tracing over the damp material seems to make it difficult for Rachel to recall her numbers. "Please, Quinn."

"But it's all about-"

"If you say anything about 'the teasing' I swear I'll walk out of here."

"No, you won't," Quinn chuckles.

"Okay, you're right, I won't. But..." Rachel pushes her hips against Quinn and it's enough to get the message across.

Quinn's fingers eagerly dip under the panties and she's immediately slipping into her girlfriend. Rachel's head falls back against the wall of the shed and, again, her body rocks forward. Every single time Rachel moves like this, it's the sexiest thing Quinn has ever seen.

"You have to be quiet," Quinn says, even though Rachel isn't making much noise. Yet.

"Shut up and..."

An eyebrow shoots up. "And what?"

"Just..."

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you."

"You told me... to be quiet."

Quinn hesitates on the next stroke, just enough to make Rachel whimper when she doesn't get what she's expecting. "Shut up and what?"

"Quinn..."

The next two movements of Quinn's fingers are incredibly slow, but still steady. "And what?"

"... I can't say it."

"You want it, though."

Rachel nods.

Quinn shrugs. "Then you can say it." Rachel glares at her. "Oh what, you're going to walk out of here?"

"Quinn Fabray."

"Hmm?"

"Shut up and fuck me."

Quinn isn't expecting the surge of arousal it gives her when Rachel actually utters the words. Her wrist moves at a faster pace, giving Rachel exactly what she wants and it isn't long before she has to muffle the sounds Rachel's making with her own mouth.

When Rachel finally stills against her hand, Quinn carefully lowers her until she can put her own feel on the floor. Even then, Rachel has to steady herself against Quinn as she catches her breath.

Quinn kisses the side of Rachel's forehead. "Feel better?"

"For now." Rachel's already tugging at Quinn's skirt. "I want you."

"You can hardly stand up."

"Are you arguing?"

Quinn shakes her head, but before Rachel makes any progress, there are four distinct raps on the door. It's one of the other Skanks, signaling that there's faculty making the rounds. "You should go back to class."

Rachel sighs, but nods. "Fine. But during lunch," she walks her fingers up Quinn's chest, "this is all mine."

"It's all yours, anyway."

"Oh fucking stop it, you two make me puke," comes Mack's voice through the door.

"Lunch," Rachel repeats, before she pushes the door open and breezes right past the other two Skanks.

Quinn watches her go until Ronnie steps in the way, arms crossed. "What?" she asks.

"We need money for snacks. We smoked it all and now we're hungry."

"I told you not to do that."

"We just covered your ass while you were tapping Berry's," Mack replies.

Quinn rolls her eyes and slams the shed door shut behind her. "Fine. Let's go find some freshmen."


	3. Three

The Harley was actually Puck's idea.

"Can't be a badass without a bike, Q."

He even went with her to check out a few sketchy Craigslist ads until they finally found the Sportster and Quinn immediately fell in love with it. It was over a decade old, but the previous owner had only taken it out about once a month and had spent more time keeping it shiny than actually riding it. The night Quinn handed over her cashier's check, she spent three hours just riding around the outskirts of Lima.

She almost didn't want to ride it to school, that first day of senior year, but she needed to get there somehow and it was now the only transportation she had. The looks she got from everyone that first day she rolled onto the McKinley campus were almost enough on their own to make it worth the stress of worrying about someone knocking it over while she was in class. Almost.

The one that really counted though, was the wide-eyed expression on Rachel Berry's face as she gawked at Quinn Fabray, former prom queen contender, swinging her leg off a Harley Davidson and shaking her pink and blonde hair out from under the pearl white helmet.

Finn was there, too, with his mouth hanging open, but neither of the girls really seemed to notice. Quinn was too busy smirking and Rachel was too occupied with Quinn's swagger as she pushed past everyone else and disappeared down the hallway.

Quinn wonders if that was when the power couple started having trouble, because a week later, they were broken up.

Two weeks into their final year of high school, Rachel was constantly popping up, asking Quinn why she wouldn't come back to the New Directions. She didn't seem to believe that Quinn no longer had any interest in show choir.

Even now, with mid-terms right around the corner, Rachel seems less interested in making index cards and more focused on what has Quinn ditching fourth period to hang out under the bleachers. Today she even showed up with snacks, which Mack promptly devoured and Quinn couldn't help but laugh at the way Rachel squealed, "Those were Quinn's 'Come Back to Glee Club' cookies!" before storming off in a huff.

It's later in the afternoon and the campus is practically a ghost town, the way it usually is on Fridays, at least the ones where there aren't any home games. Everyone else makes an effort to clear out as soon as possible, which makes it an ideal place to chill out and smoke without any hassle.

Quinn's surprised to see anyone, let alone Rachel, leaning against the large concrete planter by the front doors to the school.

"Waiting for someone?"

"I've called a cab, thank you."

"A cab? This is Lima, not New York."

"Yes, Quinn. I'm aware."

It seems Rachel's still irritated about the cookies, even if Quinn wasn't the one who shoved them all in her mouth, one after the other. Still, Quinn feels bad about what happened and maybe this is a chance to make it up. She and Rachel aren't close, but Quinn knows what it's like to be alone and waiting.

"I can give you a ride."

"That's not necessary."

"I know it isn't. It's a gesture. You should take it."

Rachel looks like she's about to protest, but then her shoulders sag and she shrugs. "All right. But you're a licensed operator of that vehicle, right?"

Quinn looks at the motorcycle, then back at Rachel. "Just get on." She offers the helmet as Rachel steps closer. "Here."

"What about you?"

"I've lived longer."

"That's not at all funny, Quinn."

"Just take the damn helmet, okay? I'll be careful."

Rachel's eyes linger on Quinn's until they finally shift down to the helmet and she takes it in both hands. "Thank you," she says, quietly.

"Do you want to cancel the cab?"

"Oh. I suppose I should."

While Rachel dials the number for the cab company, Quinn straddles the seat of the bike and kicks the starter. It's loud enough that Rachel has to plug one ear with her finger and shout the remainder of her phone call. The glare she gets just makes Quinn smirk as she adjusts her sunglasses. When Rachel pulls the helmet on over her head, it draws a laugh out of Quinn, because it's entirely in contrast with the cardigan and knee-length skirt Rachel's wearing.

It feels like it takes forever for Rachel to get situated on the back of the Harley, but she finally seems to settle, which is when Quinn reaches back to grab Rachel's arms and pulls them up around her own waist.

"You have to hold on, okay?" Quinn shouts over the engine.

There's a squeeze that suggests Rachel understands and Quinn steers through the parking lot. The second they begin moving faster than a five miles per hour, Rachel's embrace tightens, which is fine, except that it doesn't stop. After about three blocks, Quinn has to pull over into the alley next to the donut shop.

"Rachel, you can't..." Quinn tugs at Rachel's arms. "You have to at least let me breathe." Rachel's response is muffled through the helmet. Quinn kicks down the stand and kills the engine. "What?"

The helmet slides off. "I said, I don't want to fall off."

"You're not-" Quinn's laughing. "You're not going to fall off unless you suffocate me while I'm trying to drive."

"Don't make fun of me! I've never ridden one of these before and I'm trying to be a good sport."

"You're unreal." Quinn sighs and shakes her head. "Okay. You know what?" She sits up and shifts her weight until she's stepping off the motorcycle.

"You're abandoning me?" Rachel asks.

"What? No. Oh my god. Calm down. And move up." Quinn waves Rachel forward.

"I... you can't possibly expect me to drive this thing."

"No. I can't. And I'm not asking you to. I'm just going to show you how it all works so you'll feel better about it." Again, she urges Rachel to move, this time with success, then slips onto the seat behind her. Quinn's sure it's her imagination, but Rachel seems to lean back. "So, this," she says, sliding her right arm along Rachel's, until she's guiding the other girl's hand up to the handle, "goes here." Her fingers wrap around Rachel's, so they're gripping the throttle together. "This is the accelerator." She hooks her index finger under Rachel's so she can guide it upward, to point out the lever in front of the handle. "And that's the front brake. Just like on a bicycle. The rear brake is down here," She nudges her right leg against the one in front of her, then taps against Rachel's foot with her own. "And over here," now her left arm is mirroring her right, guiding and placing Rachel's, just like before, "is the clutch." Because of where her arms are placed, Quinn's talking right into Rachel's left ear and it seems that every time she says anything, even if it's just instructional, Rachel seems to shudder, just a little. "Everything okay?"

Rachel nods. "This is helping."

"Good." Quinn can smell Rachel's shampoo, being this close to her. "Where was I?"

"You were... um... clutch."

"Right. This is the clutch and then you shift with the left foot."

"That's a lot to remember."

"That's why they make you practice. Makes perfect, right?"

"... right."

"So, now we're moving on to proper passenger etiquette," Quinn says, as she pulls her hands away from the handlebars. Rachel begins to let go, but Quinn stops her. "No, you're playing driver, right now."

"Sorry."

"So, proper passenger etiquette is to hold on, like this." Quinn's arms securely slip around Rachel's waist. "But not so tightly as to cause internal bleeding."

Rachel turns, likely to glare at Quinn for the jab, but Quinn's so close that as she turns, their lips brush together and instead of pulling back, Quinn finds herself pursuing more contact. It's an awkward angle and the kiss only lasts a couple of seconds, but then Rachel's turning even more of her body around, twisting until she can slip a hand behind Quinn's head and lead her back in for another.

As surprised as she is, Quinn can't help but mutter, "This is completely unsafe in an actual driving situation."

"Then I guess I'm going to need another lesson tomorrow."

When they finally make the drive to the Berry house, Rachel's arms around Quinn's waist still leave her breathless, but for an entirely different reason than before.


End file.
